Aiming for Glory
by ScytheReaper
Summary: All he wanted was glory. For his family and name. But he has dreamt the death that will come. A hunter seeking out his prey, an assassin who had once fallen from grace, a woman who has lost her love of this world and sisters who keep being shattered over and over again. It will be seen and there will be consequences. For those who attempt to meddle with fate may just lose the most.
1. Chapter 1

**This is based off of an idea from another fic. That fic was unfortunately removed and rewritten with a totally different storyline by the writer, who I talked to later asking for permission to use a similar plot.**

**Oh, and happy birthday to me! Please see The Closed Diary and the prologue for Dark Descendants.**

**Note: Some sentences will be in French. I will however be providing translations. Look for the parentheses. **

* * *

Aiming For Glory

A blonde haired man in silver armor with depictions of yellow double moons rose from his seat in the honorary viewing box. He raised both of his arms in front of his body before swinging his right hand out in the direction of an armored knight, lowering his left arm as he did so.

"And the Winner is… Mr. Clef Verrou!"

The hundreds of spectators in the stands of the massive Nimes Arena, one of the largest of all Remnant, let out a loud roar. Many were pumping their fists in the air, sloshing their drinks about and yelling out their approval to the Arbiter of the match.

The aforementioned warrior, clad in bright silver armor adorned with red pennants of a golden key, bowed to his limping opponent before throwing out his arms and turning full circle, bathing in the adoration of his fans, who let out another round of cheers to the champion.

"This is Mr. Verrou's twentieth win in this competition and his nineteenth in a row. His fighting style is so efficient and powerful he has beaten up to five combatants in two hours." The announcer continued from his seat next to the Arbiter, microphone in hand. "If he wins this next match of his he will have matched the record set in a mistral tournament a few years ago. That record was 20 wins and was set by the celebrity Miss Pyrrha Nikos when she was 14. As we wait for the next opponent, let us relax a bit and see how our audience members are doing."

The large four sided hologram in the center of the arena began showing pictures live from the audience, all of who desperately wished to be seen. The first people shown were what appeared to be a family of three. The wife grabbed hold of her husband's shoulder pointing excitedly towards something out of the shot, obviously the hologram itself. The man lifted up his son by the arms, showing him to the cameras while the boy waved around a replica kite shield with Clef's symbol on it, prompting a mixed round of cheers and laughs.

The picture changed abruptly, showing a group of teenage girls all of who were wearing red and gold clothes. The three of them muttered quickly between themselves before they all lifted up a poster board sign. It read "Dévérouillez Moi Clef Verou! Je t'aime!" (Unlock me Clef Verrou! I love you!) Underneath the text there was a scroll ID number.

"Oh ho!" The announcer cried out as the stands became ripe with laughter, "It seems our current champion has another batch of fangirls after him, let's see his response."

The hologram changed again to show a close up of the warrior's face. He appeared to be in good spirits, a confident smirk on his face. He laughed before pulling out his scroll and typing a couple lines. He raised it in the direction of the camera, reading "L'Hôtel Jardin, chambre 1014. Apportez vos copines. Le souper c'est un cadeau de moi." (Garden Hotel, room 1014. Bring your {Female} friends. {Roughly} Dinner is on me.)

The crowd and announcer let out more laughs at the fighter's response, several letting out implying wolf whistles or hollers.

"Haha. Well, it is now time for the next challenger to enter the ring. From Vale, we have a skilled bounty hunter who specialises in hitting every opponent's weak spot, every time. In fact…" The announcer paused for effect, "it is rumored that he has never missed, never failed to take down his enemy. But he is against the impenetrable wall from Atlas, the man who always keeps his guard locked down and picks open his enemy's strategy. I present Clef Verrou versus Flavus Arcus! The locksmith and the marksman, the tank and the bounty hunter. BEGIN!"

With another cheer from the crowd, the gate under the Arbiter's podium opened and out walked the challenger. He wore a worn pair of jeans and an old form fitting hoodie with the hood up and the strings drawn tight. His face was covered by a pair of goggles of which the right eye had several magnifying lenses on a spinning wheel mounted above it. The man had several pieces of leather armor covering his most vital points as well as finger-less gloves. Over it all he had a black Grimm-skin trench coat that he threw off to show that he wore a pistol holster on each hip and had what appeared to be a folded up rifle in a sheath on his back. Everything on him was covered in dust even though he had only recently entered the sandy arena.

In stark contrast to the ragtag looking hunter was Clef Verrou, the warrior's armor still gleaming in the sunlight despite several fights. The knight grinned before putting on his ornate bassinet covered in lock and keyhole decals, a key's teeth acting as a crest, advancing towards his opponent. The two competitors stopped around ten meters from each other before quickly entering their respective battle stances.

Flavus drew two large pistols from his holsters, one golden clip based with a strangely short and thick handle, the other a matte white revolver with an odd stock-like structure on the back. He settled into a relaxed stance with both his pistols pointing to the sides of his enemy.

Clef Verrou drew a large red axe with a blade similar to an old key from a scabbard on his back before snapping his left wrist in a downward motion. At the sudden jolt his gauntlet shifted to a massive tower shield emblazoned with a lock and key coat of arms. He held himself in a defensive stance comprising of holding his shield directly in front of him and his sword held at the ready to his right.

"I would like to remind the duellers that this IS a timed match and in ten minutes the arbiter will decide a winner." The announcer called out.

"It's fine" Flavus said with a bored tone, "I'll be done in sixty seconds."

"Funny thing," Called over Clef, "I was about to say the same."

And with that, they clashed.

* * *

"**Flavus"**

As Flavus walked into the arena, he could feel the man's stare drilling into the back of his head.

'My target. But first I have to deal with this guy.'

He pulled out his trusty pistols, Flavi and Mortem.

'I know that I could finish this even faster if I used Duo Luna but hey, it's a tournament why not give them something more entertaining than simply shooting someone in the head.' The bounty hunter laughed to himself, 'The guy I'm up against has a fricken key as a weapon. I wonder if he uses it because his name is Key Lock or simply because it's an ancestral weapon like the one I'm here to get.'

He shrugged to himself; it didn't matter.

The announcer cleared out his throat before calling out to Flavus and the current champion through his mic: "I would like to remind the duellers that this IS a timed match and in ten minutes the arbiter will decide a winner."

The marksman snorted to himself; the announcer had already said "begin" but hadn't even started the clock yet.

'Such an amateur. I guess I'll act cocky, try and get this imbecile to mess up.'

"It's fine, I'll be done in sixty seconds." Flavus calls out, cracking a joke to himself, 'That's what she said.'

The champion seemed to let out a laugh, but it was hard to tell due to all of his armor.

'Man, how does he even walk wearing all that?'

"Funny thing," He shouts back, his smirk easily visible.

'How I want to smack it off his face.'

"I was about to say the same."

The tank suddenly charged towards the smaller fighter, his shield still held high. But it was Flavus' turn to smirk; with his shield up the champion was obscuring his own vision.

'Lucky me.'

The bounty hunter waited patiently, not moving a single centimetre until the last second possible before impact.

'… Now!'

He spun, pivoting on his right leg, avoiding the shield bash easily.

Flavus whistled to himself,' He may have power but this guy has no sense of mobility in battle.'

The marksman continued to spin, time seeming to slow down. Spinning Flavi in his hand as he came around, the clip based hand canon shifted into its alternate form: a thirteen inch long knife, the small front guard comprising of the handle and clip while the barrel of the gun ended up where the pommel would be on a sword. Holding Flavi in a reverse grip in his left hand, he slammed it into his opponents back, testing out his armor.

"Well, s**t" Flavus cursed as the golden blade merely scraped along the plates, sparks flying. As first strikes go, it wasn't too bad; it had fulfilled its job of analysing the armor.

'But I'm gonna need to do better in the next one.'

Quickly spinning another one eighty to see the knight again, the hunter remembered his old teacher's words; "_Never let your opponent out of your sight while he can still do something you don't expect. You must occasionally even abandon logic if you are to understand what a man under fire will do. But, don't always be staring holes in a targets head; people tend to notice that and you also might be leaving your brain open to be atomized by a counter sniper or pasted on a wall by a bodyguard_."

'Brutal, not eloquent at all, but he was a good teacher.' Flavus reminisced before quickly refocusing.

Clef turned around, seeming painfully slow to the lightly armored marksman. He raised his bassinet's face plate showing a face that was displaying a certain emotion.

'He seems… indignant, yeah that's the word, that I struck him. Some of the crowd, especially those that are female are also booing me.' Flavus was cracking up at the pampered champion.

"Really?" He yelled out, "It's a tournament, ladies; just because he has a baby face doesn't mean he can hit me and not vice versa."

The crowd simply booed louder.

"Jeez." Flavus mumbled to himself. "Hey! Key guy! You get this reaction from the fans often?"

"They are insulting you, shorty. And I won't be hit again."

"Two things: One, we're the same height, and two, I wouldn't bet on it pal."

Clef slammed his visor shut with a bang before continuing his slow advance.

The hunter then revealed his other weapon, Mortem. With a twist and flick of his wrist, the hilt of the revolver extended to about a foot while the stock shifted to become the head of a lightweight tomahawk, the barrel of the gun shortening to about three inches and situating opposite of the axe head.

At the unexpected mecha-shifting, Clef slowed his, until then, relentless advance, adopting a more cautious approach.

When Flavus didn't do anything else surprising, the current champion spoke up.

"What? No more tricks up your sleeve, peasant?"

Flavus merely grinned again.

"Are you laughing at me knave?"

"Yup."

"W-what?" Spluttered out the champion, unused to such honesty, "I come from a long line of distinguished warriors, generals and heroes; how can you laugh at such a superior being?"

"Oh, this is too great…" The bounty hunter wiped fake tears from his face, still chuckling. "That entire attitude of yours is why I'm better than you. I have met uncountable amounts of people who are better than you could ever hope to be, and some of them grew up on the street. Now then, back to business." Flavus cleared his throat, before enunciating in a clear voice, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

A silent second passed before the bounty hunter sighed, raising his arms in exaggerated exasperation.

"Well, you were supposed to attack me but O.K. I understand you're a little bit _en retard_."(Late, slow.)

Flavus' left arm cocked backwards to pause for a second before snapping forwards. A single ear-splitting gunshot sounded and Flavi became a shining spear of gold. Clef's shield snapped up from its position at his side in the nick of time to prevent him from being all but impaled by the golden point.

The bright blade met the shield with a resounding "Thunk", a full two inches passing through the protective device to rest quivering a hair's breadth from the champion's tournament helm.

Clef lowered his shield slightly. 'Likely to spot me. Welp, his mistake.' This time the bounty hunter's right hand snapped down with a gunshot, and it was an axe that embedded itself in the square shield to knock the knight back a step. '_Wait for _the _moment, my apprentice. Hassle them, pick apart their defenses over and over but don't truly strike yet. Wait until they show weakness, whether it be in the form of fear, reluctance, apprehension… Because when you strike then it will take but one stroke. _Thank you Maester. Time for that stroke'

The dusty marksman sprinted forwards suddenly, directly towards his opponent. The armor clad warrior moved his shield again in a shield bash, expecting the bounty hunter to rush for his weapons. Flavus ducked suddenly while thrusting his legs forwards, resulting in a slide underneath both the shield's edge and Clef's legs. The champion looked down in surprise, the reaction doubled when Flavus waved.

Once he had passed through, Flavus seamlessly went from slide to leap, diving onto his discarded trench coat and rolling. Spinning with coat in hand he waited for the knight to turn around once more.

'Should'a turned around shield first, dumbass.' Flavus thought to himself as the knight turned to his right, not covering himself with his shield. Clef didn't even get a glimpse of his enemy before black leather covered his vision, the heavy skin putting ever so slightly off balance.

'But just enough…'

The bounty hunter rushed again while his opponent was blinded to yank out his throwing weapons, seemingly with no difficulty. If Clef felt the items removed from his shield then he didn't show it or was preoccupied with clearing his vision. Mortem twisting in his grasp, Flavus hooked the knight's legs out from under him with the axe's head before smashing his enemy's torso into the ground with his left knee. Air was audibly forced out from the knight's lungs as the marksman kneeled down to stab Flavi through his right arm while the left was immobilised under the other knee. Mortem almost lazily reverted back to a revolver to lift up the visor of the champion.

Flavus leaned in close to his opponents strained face, beaded with new sweat. He stretched his lips into a tight lipped smile, only opening his mouth long enough to say a single phrase.

"You lose."

"L-l-ladies a-and g-gentlemen, I present your new… your new… new cha-cha…"

Looking up to the arbiter's booth, Flavus saw the announcer stupidly attempting to stutter out a victory. Beside him the Arbiter himself stood up, blue eyes flashing. The armoured man snatched the microphone from the announcer, pausing only to growl out a barely audible "Craven" through the microphone.

"The match is not over." His head swept side to side, unblinking in its survey of the stunned crowd. "To lose a competitor must not be able to continue." His eyes focused on Flavus who was staring right back from behind his goggles.

"All I see are two _children" _he spat the word as if it was the worst insult, "playing in the dirt. Let him get up and fight… or finish him."

The crowd broke out of their stupor, a chorus of complaints spreading around the arena.

"Hey, key guy. You know your Arbiter? The guy who supposedly taught you everything?"

The knight groaned.

"He's kind of a jerk."

"Tell me about it."

Flavus stood up slowly, holstering both of his weapons as he did so before throwing his coat back on.

He bent down with hand outstretched to help up the formerly undefeated champion. Clef regarded it warily before accepting, letting out another groan as he stood up. His ornate visor slammed shut as he stretched his back out.

"_Merde_" he mumbled as he fumbled with it. Meanwhile, Flavus was laughing so hard he'd bent over.

"Dieux seigneur! Laissez-moi vous aider." The bounty hunter cackled as he approached. He grabbed hold of the visor's sides and, with a sharp breath, he wrenched the mesh of metal bands free.

"Merci," Clef panted, "I felt like I was suffocating. And no thanks to my dented chestplate." He licked his lips, "Good job on that by the way. My semblance may be a defensive shield but it can't push that back into place."

"I notice that now you aren't acting all superior. May I inquire?"

"Hah!" Clef chuckled, "My teacher told me to act like that. He says I have the blood of royals and that I should act it. But you can fight. You deserve respect."

Flavus grinned, "Thanks."

'You won't think that in a minute.'

And he was in motion, with a swirl of black leather the marksman was completely behind the knight, all save a single foot hooked around the champion's legs. With a violent tug Flavus fixed that and sent his opponent down to the ground.

"Ahh!" Clef cried out, "Enfer!"

'Sorry, you could have been a great warrior.' Flavus thought, but what he said was different.

"This is what trust gets you."

Not even bothering to raise his pistols, Flavus shot from the hip with hand canons still in their holsters. A single pair of shots was fired. In response two kneecaps appeared to explode, blood going everywhere. Clef screamed, rolling on the ground holding his knees as his semblance desperately tried to knit the flesh back together.

Looking back up to the Arbiter, the bounty hunter lifted his goggles to show eyes of a burning orange to shout a challenge.

"There's your "not able to continue". I saw it in your eyes; you knew I was going to win and yet you goaded him on. To what ends? A crippled champion? I think you know the real reason I'm here, _Maester Arc._ And you wanted to test me." Flavus spat, the fury in his eyes visible to everyone through the large screens around the arena.

"And how did I do, _your grace?_ Yes I know your legacy. In fact…" Flavus slipped his goggles back down, "I lived in peace, and I had a happy ending. The days shone like gold. Then you ascended, and it's now time for you to die."

The Arbiter, now revealed to be the Lord and Hunter Arc, laughed.

"Oh this is great; I have had many an enemy. Countless bounty hunters and assassins have failed as well as the daemons that we call Grimm. My apprentice's wounds have already healed and my semblance is many times more unyielding than his. What makes you think you can kill me?"

Reaching underneath his cloak, the marksman unslung his rifle. In its compact form the gun was a foot and a half by two thirds of a foot. And then it unfolded, sections from the top and bottom extending to lengthen the barrel while a section near the middle shot before another telescopic section formed a stock. There was a massive dust cylinder slightly ahead of the clip system and a smaller one above it intersecting with the barrel. The sniper was loaded with a large caliber round magazine.

"This thing." The rifle was now as tall as the man holding it, a six foot construct of metal and dust, left side gold while the right side was a solid white. "You've seen this thing before, I know that. I know that you've seen the other tools in my arsenal before as well. You've held them in your hands, you even wielded them once. You know what this can do."

Turning to look at the defeated warrior, lying in a pool of his own blood and sand, Flavus raised Duo Luna. Clef raised his head to look down the barrel.

"No…"

'_I'm sorry'_ mouthed the hunter before he fired twice, large ice spikes pinning the knight's arms to the ground.

"I was going to be a knight like you, Lord Arc, like this man was to be." He gestured to Clef. "But you ruined my life, my future. I fortunately found another like me. And I learned from him, from my fellow ruined and, most of all, you."

Duo Luna suddenly jerked as if trying to escape the marksman's grasp. The barrel split into four tines each at a diagonal corner while the large dust chamber rotated up to replace its smaller brother. A brilliant white light sprung up around the gun, limning it in white flame.

The light discharged, hurtling across the arena to impact right over Clef Verrou's heart. His aura, a fiery red, was visibly coating his body to protect it from harm. It did nothing against the torrent of pure power that lanced right through him.

Any scream was rendered imperceptible by the massive sonic-boom that the weapon emitted. When the light had faded, the knight was frozen in a rictus of agony, held there only by his armor. Where his heart should be there was naught but a smoking hole.

Screams sounded through the arena as spectators ran for the exit. Flavus lifted the weapon to his shoulder to aim at the unmoving Arbiter, one of the magnifying glasses on his goggles flipping down, providing a perfect zoom to Arc's head.

"Every heart is not filled with love, Arbiter. And now your apprentice, like me, doesn't have one. Gotcha, Arc. Now it's time to die."

Maester Arc shot out a hand in front of him, palm out in a sign to cease.

"Too late. Say hello to the others for me." Whispered the marksman, more to himself than anyone else.

A second lance of light fired. Closer and closer it drew to the handsome face of Lord Arc, faster than a bullet yet seeming to move as slow as tar. Arc closed his eyes. They opened again and this time they were pure white. The spear of light jolted forwards and all there remained was an impact.

Jaune Arc, leader of team JNPR, shot up. His breathing was ragged, heart pounding while sweat dripped down from his blonde hair to spatter on his chest. He looked around the dorm room to reassure himself.

There was no arena, no dead warrior and no spike of light about to end his own life. Ren was sleeping peacefully, not even moving aside from his breathing, sheets without a single wrinkle in them. It was calm and everything was fine on the men's side of the dorm. He expected it was the same on the other side of the curtain. He hoped.

These dreams had happened before. And he hoped that _this_ one wouldn't come to pass.

* * *

**End of Prologue, the first Chapter is prewritten and will likely be released when I finish Chap 2, a chapter that is already in the works.**


	2. First Chapter

**Well, I think some of this can actually count as fluff. Should I be proud or not? Never mind. Well, I know I said that I would wait until I finished Chap 2 before I released this so I could have a more steady release date but I was bored. I do hope you enjoy.**

**I do not own RWBY**

**Otherwise half of the people we've seen, named and unnamed, would be dead. Unfortunately. Because my ideas get dark.**

* * *

Aiming for Glory, Chapter 1

Jaune stood up slowly to minimise the amount of noise.

As he rose up he silently thanked Pyrrha for the gift of sleeping shorts; if he still had his onesie he would be soaked in sweat. As it was there were damp spots wherever he stepped while he crossed the room to the dividing curtain in the middle of the dorm.

They had originally had a rule that you couldn't cross the gender separating line after ten to prevent awkward encounters, but that rule had gone out the window due in equal parts to the bathroom and Nora.

He had to know that the others were safe; too many coincidences happened from his dreams to real life. Small things usually: a cut, pulled muscle, homework being forgotten and in one case an issue with the curtain. The curtain that he had now reached.

He took a steadying breath before he peeked around. A small sigh of relief escaped his mouth. Nora was in her normal sleeping position, that is to say, everywhere. Her duvet was on the floor a foot away from Jaune and she seemed to be gnawing on her foot.

Pyrrha was facing away from her leader, the faint movement of her back revealing the timing of her breaths. With a smile Jaune grabbed Nora's duvet from the ground and tiptoed over to the valkyrie's bed. He gently tugged her big toe from her mouth, replacing it with a small heart-shaped pillow before covering her with the blanket.

"Mm, pancakes…" Nora mumbled.

"Yeah Nora, you get those pancakes." Jaune whispered to himself. There was a sound, very faint, barely a whisper but audible. When he turned around he even saw the quick movement of a spartan turning away, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"I know you're awake, Pyrrha." He called out in an undertone. "I had another dream, and I'm _really_ sorry if I woke you."

"Was it another of the dreams? Like the… um…" Pyrrha blushed, "Curtain incident?"

Jaune just nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The leader sighed, "Maybe in the morning. It was a bad one."

"Well, Jaune, it actually is morning." Pyrrha pointed to the clock above her bed that was showing two thirty-four in the morning. She moved over and patted the mattress beside her onto which Jaune promptly collapsed.

"Well, at least I didn't wake you. Don't let Nora know though; she'll blow it all out of proportion and then tell everyone."

"Well, Jaune," Pyrrha covered her mouth with her hand, "you _did_ wake me up. And now my sheets are getting all wet from your sweat. But don't apologize!" She added quickly to prevent Jaune from blurting out apologies. She glanced over to make sure that the sudden noise hadn't woken up the whirlwind of energy that was Nora before continuing.

"I just want to know why you're so freaked out. Ever since yesterday you've been… agitated."

"Agitated? So I'm agitated am I?" Jaune's voice rose in volume, as Pyrrha waved quickly to try and quiet him down.

"You would be agitated of you saw the death's that I have. Yesterday I saw myself stabbed through the chest by Crocea Mors."

Pyrrha gasped. Jaune gave her a look.

"Not a lethal strike. I think. What?" Pyrrha was glaring now. Sympathetic one second, terrifying the next, girls were strange.

"And today I saw someone walk into an arena and kill me. Single shot to the head." His head slumped, a finger gun pointing to his temple. "I was older but I don't want to die then. I want to die surrounded by family. Children and grandchildren."

"Jaune," Pyrrha spoke soothingly, "just tell me it all and I can help."

And they talked. When Jaune's story was done Pyrrha told him of _her_ hopes and dreams as a child. They then talked about the exchange students, switching from topic to topic, crying and laughing and _sympathising,_ as they had done many times before.

The only difference was that this time they both talked until they slept, the leader and his partner both laying on Pyrrha's bed, their breaths and bodies relaxed and calm, anxieties quelled, tired and content to sleep out the rest of the small hours of the morning. And, though they didn't know it, the two warriors shifted until they were in each other's arms. At the touch of the other they let out a sigh in unison.

And that was how Nora found them in the morning.

"Nora! It's not what it looks like!"

"Smash the curtain crosser! Yaaah!"

* * *

"Uhh, Jaune? What happened to your face?"

The entirety of team RWBY, JNPR's sister team, was staring at Jaune's rather colourful face. His usually clear skin was a mix of yellow and purple on the left side. Not to mention the very noticeable imprint of Magnhilde over his cheekbones.

Jaune ignored his fellow leader's question, spooning another mouthful of cereal into his mouth.

With a look at her blank faced leader, Pyrrha spoke for him. "He had a run in with Nora's hammer this morning. He hasn't said a word since he was hit."

"He must have done something to incur it." Weiss spoke up.

"I agree with Weiss." Ruby announced before leaning to her left. "Hey, Weiss? What does incur mean?" she whispered to her partner, bringing up a sigh.

"It means to deserve, to invite something." The heiress explained, "I meant that something must have happened to get that reaction out of Nora."

"Weiss," Yang chuckled, "are you saying that Nora doesn't overreact?"

The white themed girl scoffed, "Of course not! I just meant that… uh, yeah! Nora has excellent judgement." Weiss hastily changed her words at a glare from Nora. "Ahem. I just want to know what Jaune did."

The two team's quiet members finally spoke up, Blake speaking first.

"If you want to know that then I would suggest asking the aggressor herself."

"In all honesty," Ren joined the conversation, "Nora did overreact, especially since she has done the same thing."

"And what was that? What did he do! What did he do!" Yang chanted.

"Jaune broke the third rule of the dorm. First is to always knock," the Valkyrie started counting her fingers.

"An understandable tenet." Weiss interjected.

"Hey Weiss… what does that mean?"

"Ruby! For crying out loud!"

"… second is not to touch my pancakes,"

The two teams shuddered; it had happened before.

"and third is to never, _ever_, cross the curtain past ten. There could have been an awkward encounter."

"…"

Team RWBY went completely silent, the clicking of Jaune's spoon echoing around the cafeteria as he continued to eat.

Yang burst out laughing. She wiped a tear from her eyes after a couple seconds.

"Well, vomit boy… Ha! I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yang! Don't imply such things, you deviant." Weiss scolded her blonde teammate, "I'm sure Jaune had a perfectly legitimate reason to be where he was. Right Pyrrha?"

"Yes." The Spartan breathed a sigh of relief. "We were..."

"Sleeping together!" Nora blurted out, "They were on Pyrrha's bed! He said it wasn't what it looked like! I am a witness! The law protects me and I say that the law is Yang at this time!" She leaped across the table in a blur to hang from Yang's shoulders, the newly appointed "law" stuttering perplexedly.

"Y-you? H-h-her? Bed?" Yang promptly grabbed her head, her eyes glinting with madness, "Whaaaa…?"

Her head slammed down on the table, followed by mindless sounds as the blonde's brain tried to come to terms with what she'd heard. Every single head was turned to the sight. It was several _very_ long moments before anyone could speak at this second bombshell.

"How could either of you think of doing such a thing?" Weiss exploded into rage, "In school and in a dorm no less. You should be ashamed of yourselves. If something had happened your careers would have been ruined!"

"Weiss," Blake interjected, "while I am surprised that you aren't totally abashed by this conversation just look at their faces. Obviously nothing of the sort happened."

"I'm the heiress to a kingdom of dust and wealth." Weiss sniffed haughtily, "My parents found it… imperative that I know how to provide an heir."

She glanced momentarily to Pyrrha and Jaune's horrified faces before letting out a sigh while dropping her shoulders and head.

"Fine," she huffed, "what really happened?"

Jaune and Pyrrha shared an uncomfortable glance before the leader spoke up for the first time that day.

"Well… Uh, first of all, your parents are cold Weiss. Like, really big jerks if that's how they view you."

"It is. Unfortunately"

"And uh…" Jaune raised a hand to scratch the back of his head as he continued, "we, that is to say Pyrrha and me… Pyrrha and I!" He corrected himself as Weiss shot an enraged glare over, "Well, we were just talking. That's all!"

"Excuse me," Yang raised her head to shake it violently, Nora flying off in the process. "Bleh! Now, what was this "pillow talk" about?" the blonde asked while making air quotes.

There was a sudden crash as two fists hit the table. "It wasn't pillow talk!"

For the third time that morning the table quietened. Pyrrha was breathing heavily, her whole body over the table, clenched hands denting the heavy wood.

"Ahem, sorry." The Spartan muttered quietly as she sat down. "Jaune has been having these dreams. At first they just seemed like that: dreams. But they started happening, becoming true. He could predict what injuries everyone would have, a certain incident that happened in our dorm, one case of surprise homework…" She took a breath. "But now he dreams of death."

"Having premonitions in the form of dreams is a very common ability in all the legends." Blake spoke, seemingly unbothered. "Like many stories it might have had a faint seed of truth in it."

"Who's death?" Weiss asked.

Everyone looked to her.

"What? It's what we all were thinking."

"I won't say. I told the people who should know and that's it. Anyone else would just be destroying privacy." Jaune said with a grim face.

"Hmm." The sudden noise from behind Jaune caused him to jump a foot off the bench he was sitting on.

"God, Nora. You freaked me out." He panted, "What are you thinking about?"

"I wanna know what _Ren's_ thinking about." The simple phrase drew attention to the quiet boy.

"I was thinking of a way that we could test this ability of Jaune's" He turned to his leader, "Was there any dream that happens at a time close to now?"

"A couple, why?"

"Uh, Jaune?" Ruby started, "Even _I_ can get why. It's so if it happens then you have magical dreams and if it doesn't then you have an imagination." The other leader shrugged, "Both are totally fine."

"All of the ones in Beacon are going to be awkward though." Jaune whined, "I guess it doesn't matter; I get no privacy anyways. One dream was that Ozpin lost a small box somewhere in the cafeteria at dinner. He was panicking, oddly, and kept asking students for help."

"Huh, that's not gonna happen." Yang said, "Ozpin's on par with a robot when it comes to emotion."

"Another had Glynda going around door to door asking for advice…"

"I have to say that I doubt Professor Goodwitch would ever do such a thing." Weiss snorted.

"And the last dream in Beacon had Yang beating someone up."

"I…" Weiss paused mid-sentence, "I believe that one could happen. Yang can be a touch aggressive."

"Hey, whaddaya expect?" Yang threw her hands up, "I have a little sister and I have to protect her from all the _curtain crossing men…"_

"We already went over this." Jaune groaned.

"… and any others who would dare harm or defile her!" Yang looked around at the others, having stood up on her chair with a single fist in the air. "I did use defile right, didn't I Weiss?"

The heiress nodded slowly as her leader poked her shoulder gently. "What does defile mean?"

Weiss was obviously enraged at this point, removing a very thick leather-bound book and throwing it at Ruby, the girl falling over from the unexpected weight.

"What are these pages made out of?" she groaned, "Lead?"

"Ruby," the white haired girl spoke with a terrifying happiness, a twisted smile on her face. "you are going to the library to look up any words you might not understand. When you come back you should be able to have a civilised conversation _without_ using me as a dictionary. And no X-Ray and Vav either; those will distract you from learning."

"B-but class starts in an hour! A-and you read the comics too…"

"Ah bup bup bup bup." Weiss' face hardened as she interrupted Ruby's whines, " You. Dictionary. Library. _Now!_"

Ruby vanished in an explosion of petals, no doubt running from the wrath of Schnee. Weiss let out a deep breath and settled down at the disappearance of the hyperactive girl.

"I think I know who I'm going to punch"

"Yang, you would only hurt somebody if they hurt Ruby." Weiss began explaining, "And that means that Jaune's dream showed something happening to Ruby, but if Ruby knew something was going to happen she would try to force it. I got rid of her so that we can plan."

"You could have still done it a little less rudely." Blake spoke again, "Ruby will be sulking for a while. But now," she closed the open book on the table in front of her, "Jaune should tell us what happens."

All eyes turned to the knight, causing him to blush and stumble over his words.

"W-well, I uh, I don't know who it is, but Yang punches them really, _really_ hard." He winced, "the guy hits the wall hard enough to uh, kinda stick in it."

"Yes, yes, we all know Yang can punch hard." Weiss waved him off.

"What happened?" Blake finished, "Why _did _Yang hit the person? That's what we want to know."

"Ruby ran into him or her and they uh… they end up kinda... kissing."

"Where was she when this happened?" The voice was calm and neutral, somehow more terrifying than if it wasn't.

Yang Xiao Long was in a _very_ dangerous mood.

"The hallway going to the library from Grimm studies, why?" Jaune took a moment to realise what he'd said, "Oh, no."

Yang finished the thought through gritted teeth.

"That's where Ruby is _now_."

* * *

The group was rapidly walking down the hallway, having already been told by Professor Goodwitch not to run, with as much speed as possible.

The expressions of the group were very diverse as they walked; Blake seemed uncaring, Ren was mildly interested, Nora was bouncing around excitedly, Weiss appeared intrigued and biting the inside of her lip while Yang was stomping determinedly and relentlessly. All the while Jaune was begging for forgiveness while Pyrrha tried to console him.

"C'mon Yang!" Jaune pleaded, "I know I should have realised sooner but it wasn't my fault I had the dream."

"It _wasn't_ your fault." Pyrrha patted her leader on the back, "She doesn't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself,"

"But I knew! I should have done more to stop it."

"Just because it's been accurate so far doesn't mean it will be now." Weiss spoke doubtfully, "She might not end up kissing someone."

"Are you worried too Weiss?" Pyrrha asked, "You seem… off."

"Oh!" Jaune exclaimed, "She's the one who sent Ruby to the library. She thinks Yang might blame her!"

"All of you shut it!" Yang growled, pulling all the attention to her.

"What is it Yang?" Blake asked softly.

Yang raised a hand, index finger outstretched. "Do you hear that?"

As everybody stopped moving they became aware of what Yang was speaking of; a slight rumbling mixed with a gentle breeze.

"Uh, yeah." Jaune spoke, confused. "What is it?"

The brawler sighed from her position at the head of the group, cracking her neck before crouching down into a wrestler stance.

"That's the sound of Ruby running. Everybody get to the sides of the hall."

"But Yang, wait!" Jaune lunged forwards grabbing Yang's shoulder, "You're going to grab her?"

"If that's what it takes to stop your little dream from happening, then yes."

"Yang," he was speaking urgently now, "It won't do anything; she runs into them. If you stop her now she'll just hit them later."

A glint of colour in the corner of his vision caught his attention. It was a swirl of red speeding down the hall with such speed that the petals in its wake were sent spinning away.

As Jaune looked towards it time seemed to slow down, letting him see that he was about to be hit.

'Well,' he thought to himself, "this is gonna hurt.'

Then he was hit and blacked out before his head even bounced on the ground.

End of Chapter 2

To be continued…

* * *

**I'm sure everyone wants to know what happens to Jaune when he wakes up. Most likely something painful.**

**Until next time. By the way, I would sincerely enjoy any help I could get with my fics; Opinions, typos, actions I am prompt to do. I especially need help with a certain scene in Two Roses Chapter 2 where RWBY are shopping. For dresses. But I'm a guy. And I do not enjoy shopping.**

**-ScytheReaper**

**Post-Script: To anyone that reads this, I would implore you to read some of my other fics. **

**The Closed Diary was published last week and is based around Weiss.**

**Dark Descendants was also published last week and is about the Grimm and RWBY.**

**Cooling Flames is a tad... Darker. Features a first person story about Yang rated M. Do not read if you have a queasy stomach or want to have a good opinion of me.**

**Imperfection is to be Expected... I haven't even looked at it in ages. But people appear to think it is good. I do have to finish Chapter 4...**


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